I'll be home for Christmas
by Quiet Time
Summary: Ianto is revitalising the North Pole, Jack is dodging Miracles, and Santa just wants to make their Christmas wish come true. Sequel to 'If Only In My Dreams' so you might want to check that out first.


_This little Christmas offering follows on from last year's 'If only in my dreams' so is unlikely to make sense unless you've read that. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

In a slightly seedy hotel at the unpopular end of the Milky Way, a jaded time-and-space traveler awoke cradling a miracle in the palm of his hand.

Well, a miracle or a coincidence.

Jack wanted to go with the miracle, truly he did. The thing was, he'd been on the receiving end of miracles more than once in his extraordinary life, and they'd yet to live up to the hype.

Doubt crept in and took hold before he'd even properly woken up.

A dream, Jack concluded reluctantly, and not a particularly uncommon one, either. Everyone who lost someone they loved dreamed them back alive. Jack had done it before himself, perhaps not quite so vividly, but a better quality of dream didn't make a reality.

His eyes stung. Jack thought he probably needed more sleep.

-XXX-

Somewhere not quite on Earth, but not quite anywhere else either, an impressively large and jolly man frowned, the expression sitting ill on a face largely composed of laughter lines. He was terribly fond of Jack, and would dearly love to be able to repeat last night's Christmas wish, both for Jack himself and for the young man who already had a firm hold on the abundance of paternal affection only to be expected from Father Christmas.

Jack, however, seemed bent on throwing up obstacles. Christmas miracles ran on faith and hope as well as love, and while Jack had boundless reserves of one, he appeared to be faltering on the other two. Santa stroked his beard as he considered it. A bit of a prod couldn't hurt, he decided, as his face settled back into its accustomed lines, and no time like the present.

-XXX-

Jack swore softly as he was drawn from a light doze by a stinging pain in his hand. He'd nearly forgotten – or was trying to forget – the tiny piece of jewelry he'd woken up clutching, and it had somehow slipped its safety catch and embedded itself in the fleshy webbing between his thumb and forefinger. The admittedly tiny wound healed before Jack had even wiped the bead of blood away, but he glared at the innocent-looking pin regardless. It was a fine piece of workmanship, though someone had slipped up on the design. The Santa figure was beautifully executed, but it was offering up a coffee mug, of all things. Exactly the sort of poorly-researched whimsy to be found in abundance during this particular time period in this part of the galaxy, where beings with nothing better to do, and too much money to do it with, gathered to speculate on the pagan ritual being enacted below.

The little frippery was, however, a perfect match for the one his dream Ianto had worn - before Jack ripped the tie off, of course. Odd, that. Then again, people left things in hotel rooms all the time. Likely he'd noted it subconsciously before he went to sleep and incorporated it into his dream. In fact, it probably triggered the whole thing. Jack sighed at how easily he'd explained his supposed miracle away and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Pleasant aches, too, he noted, smiling determinedly in spite of the twinges. Apparently the _intuitive_ massage bed had performed above and beyond expectations. Worth the extra tariff, he supposed. He might even buy one of his own, next time he settled in one place long enough to order furniture.

Jack sighed again, pushing away regret as he prodded his solution for flaws. Finding none, he resolved to forget all about the fleeting fantasy, to put away a futile hope that would only hurt him when it failed, and to ignore the tears prickling the back of his eyes.

Somewhere on the other side of the Rift, Santa huffed in annoyance, and a reindeer stamped its hoof.

-XXX-

There was a knock at the door which was never closed. St Nicholas' recently-gained and already indispensable assistant entered the room. There was an uncharacteristic bounce in his step and a smile on his face totally at odds with his usual air of melancholy, both of which Santa noted with satisfaction. It was nearly enough to override his residual annoyance with Jack.

"Come in, Ianto," Nick said cheerfully. "I trust you had a good night?"

Ianto's cheeks turned faintly pink. It suited them. "You know I did," he muttered, shifting from foot to foot.

Nick chuckled. He did know, at that. He'd seen the faces on the pair of them – before they realised he'd turned up to take Ianto back. Suddenly he didn't feel quite so much like laughing anymore.

"And while I'm terribly grateful," Ianto continued, leading the conversation away from the suddenly-awkward subject with considerably less than his usual finesse. "That's not actually why I'm here, Sir."

"Nick," Santa corrected automatically, because the effort had to be made.

"I was wondering if we could have a chat about the reindeer," Ianto finished. "If you wouldn't mind. Sir….St Nicholas."

Santa sighed, though whether at the continued formality or the subject matter he couldn't have said. Maybe both. The boy had been obsessed with the plight of the reindeer since the first time he'd glimpsed the blessed animals, and they didn't half lap it up. At least they weren't marching around with little placards strapped to their harnesses while Ianto argued their case. Yet.

"It takes them months to recover from the tropical runs," Ianto began, all business again already. Couldn't knock him off his stride for long, and Nick tried, frequently, because even Santa needed a hobby.

"So I thought it might be worth sourcing some other species more suited to the climate….and I've already looked into housing them in the warehouse that shares a wall with the forge ….."

Nick waved a hand, bringing the spiel to a halt. "Worth a try," he announced. Most of Ianto's ideas were worth a try. Innovative, that was the word, and Nick used it quite often, because for some reason it made Ianto stutter in the midst of a sentence and the elves were more comfortable about the newcomer (he'd been around for years now, but the elves had been here for _centuries_, so newcomer he remained) if his impressively calm demeanor slipped occasionally.

Ianto stopped midsentence, mouth still slightly open, eyes shining as though….well, almost as though someone had torn another hole in the Rift from here to Jack's hotel room. "Really?" he asked.

Nick grinned. "You can _try_," he emphasized, carefully not agreeing to turn the reindeer out to pasture just yet and wondering whether he should warn Ianto against camels. Then again, if anyone could teach camels not to spit over the presents, it'd be Ianto, and the process would be fun to watch, however it turned out.

Ianto sprang to his feet. "Thank you," he exclaimed, already halfway to the door. Nick grinned. The lad was full of energy today, and no prizes for guessing why. It did his old heart good, it did, seeing young Ianto happy. Well worth repeating, if only Jack would give himself a chance.

Ianto paused at the door. "Nick?"

Santa smiled.

"Um….I'm not sure whether I actually thanked you before... For, for…"

"Tearing a hole in time and space for you?" Nick finished brightly. "It was only a little one, son, and well worth the effort to put that smile on your face. Just try not to let it wear off until next year, would you?"

Ianto froze. "Next…" he faltered. "I didn't think….I didn't expect…."

Sometimes Nick considered shucking the red suit and goodwill, just long enough to track down whoever it was who'd made this young man stop expecting good things along with the bad.

"I mean," Ianto faltered. "I wouldn't have _asked_, but…but…if you _could…._"

Nick laid a finger alongside his nose, in the very best tradition. "Only if you're a very good boy," he teased, laughing as his now cherry-cheeked assistant made a hasty departure, leaving his mentor hmmming in thought.

It appeared he'd just committed himself to what might prove to be a very difficult task, what with Jack's current bah-humbug attitude. Still, between the pair of them, it was practically part of the job description. Santa was all about rewards for good deeds, after all, and Ianto was a great doer of good deeds, just ask those reindeer. There was the spreading faith and hope, too. If anyone needed their faith restored, it was Jack, and he could do with a decent shot of hope as well. Two birds with one stone, as they said, and not really squandering his powers at all.

Conscience assuaged, St Nicholas closed his eyes and concentrated.

-XXX-

Jack surveyed the room one last time, strangely reluctant to leave. A sudden, unexpected glitter caught his eye, drawing his gaze to the tie pin winking at him from the bedside table, where he'd sensibly left it for its owner to claim. Jack blinked against the renewed burn behind his eyes. The sensors in the doorway whined their annoyance at his refusal to pass through and groaned shut as he stomped back inside.

With an oath, Jack tossed his duffel back onto the bed and rummaged. Moments later, the tie pin nestled inside a pair of dress socks which had once matched beautifully with the suit trousers above them. A dream, perhaps, Jack rationalized, but one worth remembering. Like the man who'd worn the socks.

Back on Earth, St Nicholas chuckled. Maybe it wouldn't be quite so difficult after all.

-XXX-

All through the next year Jack hoped, fretted, tried to forget and struggled to remember. He laughed at himself when he checked his chronometer for the progression of the Earth calendar and panicked when he didn't. Inside his pocket, as much a part of him now as his vortex manipulator, the tie pin rested, enamel already blurring from constant touch.

When his wrist-strap pinged with the approach of _that_ date, Jack fretted some more, then decided the hell with it, not as though he had anything better to do, and booked a passage to the unfashionable end of the Milky Way. It was foolish, he knew, and bound for disappointment, neither of which stilled the trembling inside.

-XXX-

Santa boggled. It takes a lot to make Santa boggle. "Kangaroos?" he repeated. "You got _kangaroos_."

Ianto frowned. "Well, I _tried_ camels," he said, with an air of long-suffering. "Without notable success."

Nick chuckled. "I kept meaning to warn you," he said, not very apologetically, because it _had_ been entertaining to watch, and the elves had replaced all Ianto's ruined suits, so no harm done. "So, kangaroos," he prompted, when Ianto seemed poised to question further. "White ones, I see."

"Beautiful, aren't they," Ianto agreed happily, reaching up to stroke between a pair of snow white ears. "They got thrown out by their mob for being different, poor things, so they were happy to join us, weren't you loves?"

Santa left his assistant cooing over his pets. Everyone needed a hobby, he thought indulgently, and Ianto needed a distraction even more than most. The year was wearing on and Jack had so far proven quite foolishly indecisive. He might, St Nicholas decided, need another subtle prod. Or two. Or several, in which case he might have to dispense with subtle.

-XXX-

Jack spread out his greatcoat out on the bed and inspected it for damage, having finally given in to the nagging urge to take it out of storage. The being who shared his bed at this point in time eyed the garment curiously – she had pretty green eyes, all three of them – and pronounced it 'quaint'. Jack took exception, quite understandably he thought, so the resulting breakup was completely coincidental. It had nothing to do with lingering concerns about fidelity, to her _or _Ianto.

Damn it. He was going to be soooo disappointed, and he had no one to blame but himself, and the hell with it anyway.

Apparently committed now, Jack gave 'the hell with it' mentality full reign and reserved the same room in which he'd had that fateful dream. If nothing else, the surroundings might trigger the same fantasy. And if….if….if Nick really had gone to the trouble of extending the Rift this far, it'd be easier for him to reopen the same crack rather than having to force the splinter further. Just simple courtesy, really.

Jack packed, unpacked, decided to cancel his booking and couldn't bring himself to make the call, then repacked the damned duffel and went to the spaceport before he changed his mind.

-XXX-

Santa Claus laughed.

"You're taking this far better than I'd expected," Ianto said gratefully. His gaze sharpened. "Or did you not hear what I just told you?"

Nick blinked. "Someone saw the trial," he recited, in case Ianto was considering rationing his coffee for inattention. "Someone saw six white kangaroos pulling Santa's sleigh, and on the wrong day, no less. Don't stress about it, son. He won't tell anyone, and if he did he'd likely be locked up somewhere soft for their own safety."

"He wrote a song about it," Ianto confessed, getting it all over with while his mentor was in such a forgiving mood. "A children's song."

"The best sort," Nick approved, grinning. "And I can hardly drag you over the coals for that, not after my own red-nose debacle. Now, the question is, are these beasts of yours ready for the real thing?"

Ianto stroked a snow-white neck. "They'll do me proud, won't you boys?"

The 'roo in question laid a spindly forearm on the young man's shoulder and bounced lightly on its tail.

Santa left before things could develop into a group hug. He was well content. Christmas Eve wasn't far away, the 'hot climate team' was ready, and Jack was coming along nicely.

-XXX-

Jack arrived two days early, but the 'what the hell' mentality was still recklessly in command. The room looked the same. It cost more, though. They'd apparently upgraded the mattress. Jack sat on it, bounced on it, lay on it and remembered, calling up every detail, every hope, every wish. The mattress registered the tension in his muscles and started undulating. Nothing else happened. It wasn't Christmas Eve yet, though.

The rational side of his brain argued that it shouldn't make a difference, then realised it was arguing against itself and shut up.

Jack began to hope. He couldn't help himself. It felt good.

-XXX-

The Time Vortex gave the tiniest of twitches at the proximity of a certain fixed point. St Nicholas roared with laughter and wept with joy. Having taken a moment to collect himself, he bellowed for his assistant and ordered the reindeers harnessed early. And those blessed kangaroos as well.

-XXX-

Jack's vortex manipulator pinged, softly and repeatedly. He crawled out from under the bed to shut it off, heart thumping, and not just because he'd been willfully damaging hotel property. The massage bed had been upgraded to include a soothing sound and light show, which was now disabled. There was only one light show Jack wanted to see, only one sound he wanted to hear.

And there it was. A golden orb, the sound of bells. A rolling laugh, Welsh vowels, and a Welshman in a suit.

Ianto fell out of the Rift and into Jack's arms, and the Rift closed behind him with fading chime of bells.

-XXX-

"I was afraid to hope you'd make it," Jack confessed, staring fixedly at the ceiling.

"Which is why I almost didn't," Ianto chided, craning his neck so he could see Jack's face without raising his chin from his lover's chest. "You didn't give Nick much to work with."

"I gave him all I had," Jack said, throwing on the pathos as he peered at Ianto through his eyelashes.

Ianto failed to melt, but it was a near thing, even though he knew it was totally contrived. He shifted around until he could draw the impossible man in his arms, and sighed into ruffled hair. "Do you remember what I told you last year, Jack?" he asked, with the air of long-suffering patience Jack hadn't realised he'd missed. "When you asked whether I was real or not?"

Jack squirmed guiltily. "That you were real if I believed in you," he recited dutifully. "But," He paused. "I…I…well…" and he scrambled away, found his hastily-discarded trousers and returned with something clutched in his fist. "I didn't quite give up," he said triumphantly. As Ianto watched, Jack's hand unfurled, slowly, reverently. Cradled in his palm was an elf-crafted tie pin.

Ianto caressed it with a single finger, smiling as he felt the well-worn surface. "I left it," he recalled. "I thought it would be enough."

"It was," Jack insisted. "It should have been. Only, hell Ianto, when something seems too good to be true, it's generally exactly that."

Ianto met his gaze, smiling sadly until Jack dropped his eyes.

"Then I suppose there's only one thing to do," Ianto announced. Between one breath and the next, his smile turned wicked. "I'll just have to leave you with something a bit more convincing this time."

-XXX-

Jack left the hotel the next day with a mouth-shaped bruise in a spot he couldn't possibly have gotten to himself, a grin on his face and joy in his heart. The bruise would fade all too soon, but he had faith, hope and love bundled around a fading tie pin, all wrapped up in a wisp of silk which only hours ago had been a red tie.

He would carry them all with him, never at risk of losing them again, not when the son of a tailor had sewn the bundle securely into the lining of his pocket. He would carry them, and they would carry him through for another year, when the miracle would begin again.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed this piece of whimsy. Ianto's mission with the kangaroos is homage to the delightful 'Six White Boomers', an Australian childrens' Christmas song which helps to reconcile them to the lack of snow._

_To everyone who has read one of my fics this year (hey that's you!), my deepest gratitude, especially to those of you who have spared a moment to comment. I treasure you all._

_Given that you've read your way through a Christmas story, I trust that you won't mind if I wish you a very Merry Christmas. I hope 2013 bring you inspiration, and may all your best dreams come true._


End file.
